Dirty Little Teases (1/?)
Title: Dirty Little Tease
Author: xxpinkwritesx and MissStud
Pairing: Dean/Misha (And Dean/Misha/Sam later)
Word Count: 3,644 (this chapter)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dean's stuck in Meta!Verse with Misha Collins. He has no idea what he's in for.
A/N: May be a bit screwed up in some places (lines out of order a bit) as this was originally a roleplay over tumblr.
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Dean looked around the set, fidgeting as he waited for Sam to come back from the not-Ruby's house. He glanced up and saw the…actor, he guessed, who played Castiel. What was his name again. Something with an M.
Misha, maybe?
"God, what the hell's a Misha?" He muttered, rubbing his fingers on his temple.
"You fucker, you're just messing with me, aren't you?"
Dean's head shot up and he turned, eyes wide. "Uh…you're not-Yes, yes, I am."
Misha rolled his eyes, "Funny, Jen." He lowered his voice down to Castiel-level tone. "You should show me some respect," he said, grinning toothily.
Dean look away, coughing, and blushed, tip of his ears turning red. "Yes, sir, Misha!" he said, winking to hide the flush.
Misha cocked his head, squinting at him. "You're acting kind of weird, Jensen. Late night?" He winked, waiting for an answer.
Dean flushed again and licked his lips. "I, uh, yeah, I guess. I- I mean, not like that, but, um..." He looked away, avoiding Misha's gaze.
Misha raised an eyebrow. "Riiiight, you and Jared, hmm?" He smirked.
Dean snapped his head up, mouth opening and closing before looking at him. "What-I-no! We're not together!"
Misha scoffed, "Of course you aren't sweetie, I totally understand discretion." He grinned widely, nose wrinkling.
Dean sighed. "Jesus, does everyone in every goddamn universe think S- Jared and I are a thing?" he asked, shaking his head.
Misha winked. "Just basically the entire fandom. Except the ones that think we're fucking." Misha leered.
"Fandom- I - what. Why do people think of these things?" Dean choked out, face reddening.
Misha shot him a look. "Jensen…you know better than I that once the fandom gets it into their heads about something, they never quit. What's up with you?"
Dean swallowed. This "acting like whoever-the-hell Ackles" thing might be harder than he thought.
"I, uh... it was a really late night and... damn, I could use a beer. Do you want to...?" He trailed off, not quite sure what he was asking.
Misha cocked his head - eerily Castiel-like - and his eyes crinkled at the edges.
"You sure you don't want to go with Jared?" He grinned again, nose wrinkling.
"Nah, I'm good. I mean, I wouldn't want to look like a pimp, going out with both of my 'boyfriends.'" He says laughingly, feeling for the first time that yeah, he might be okay in this screwy universe.
Misha smirked, blue eyes flashing. "No, wouldn't want that," he murmured, voice a little softer.
Dean smiled as Cas - no, Misha's voice softened.
"So, uh, you want to drive together, or should I...?" he asked, letting the question hang. He still had no idea where anything in this universe was. Hell, he didn't know where anything in Canada was anyway, Twilight Zone or not.
Misha grinned. "Yeah, I got it." He grabbed a pair of keys and opened an Audi, slipping inside and peering at Dean.
"You coming?" He smirked, winking.
"Not yet," He said, grinning as he slid into the passenger's seat.
Misha grinned, all white teeth, gums, and crinkly nose, and pulled out, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in a rhythmic, repetitive beat.
"You sure you're up for a night out with me again, Jen? Last time you didn't fare so well." Misha shot him a smirk, eyes gleaming.
Dean laughed nervously. "'Course, man. I, uh, hardly remember last time." He said, thoughts beginning to race. Shit, of course they'd hung out before. They worked together. He gazed out the window, hoping this Jensen guy hadn't done anything too stupid around Misha before.
Misha pulled into a noisy bar and sat in the parking lot, looking at him, blue eyes piercing and knowing-very Castiel-like in their intensity.
"You're not Jensen, are you?"
Dean froze, trapped in that intense blue gaze. He thought of a thousand things he could say- he could laugh it off, tell this man he's insane; he could claim he was going through a personal crisis or something.
"Hi. I'm Dean Winchester, and I really need a goddamn beer right now."
Or he could do that.
Misha laughed, low and throaty, and got out of the car.
"Well then, Mr. Dean Winchester, let's get you a beer." His eyes were twinkling and they were dark with something unnamed and intense.
Dean got out of the car, his body running on autopilot. "I- wait. What? You just... does this happen OFTEN around here or something?" he asked, following Misha into the bar.
Misha made a careless gesture.
"Nah. But I think you'll find I'm a little more…open that most," he said, flashing Dean a wicked grin. "I'm not exactly like your precious Cas." He threw Dean a lewd wink.
Well, that went better than expected, Dean thought, still somewhat dumbfounded by Misha's response. "...And by open, you mean you would believe a co-worker went Twilight Zone with the guy he plays on a TV show or whatever this is?" He had to admit it - At this point, most normal people would be freaking out, not... flirting with him or whatever this was. "I expected a few questions, at least."
Misha shrugged. "Well, it's Supernatural. I would assume that can happen in the Supernatural world." He turned to look at him, leaning against the wall of the bar, eyelashes thick and dark.
"The only question I have is are we gonna get this fucking beer, or not?" His voice dropped down an octave, nearly at Castiel-level.
Dean's eyes widened as Misha spoke in that deep, gorgeous voice he only ever heard from Castiel. It sounded so familiar, but at the same time so different, coming from this guy... and no matter who it came from, it was still hot as hell.
"Um." was the only response he could think of at that moment.
Misha's mouth curled at a corner, eyes flashing with heat.
"So you do have a thing for that, huh?" He asked softly, stretching lazily, cat-like, a sliver of skin exposed in between his pants and shirt.
Dean stared as Misha's shirt rode up, unconsciously stepping closer. "I-fuck, yes." he admitted, voice rough.
Misha saw Dean's stare and smirked, arm reaching out to wrap around his wrist, pulling him into that precious Personal Space zone.
"Come on, cowboy, you want that beer or what?" He asked, voice still low and throaty.
Dean shivered as that voice washed over him, hardly hearing the meaning behind the words. "Uh. Yeah, beer... drunk could be a good idea right now." He replied absently, focusing more on the warm hand on his wrist than anything around him.
Misha smirked, dragging a thumb across the fluttering pulse on the underside of Dean's wrist.
"Yeah?" He breathed, right in Dean's ear. "I don't know, you drunk…I might not be able to keep myself from having my way with you."
Dean bit back a moan as Misha's breath ghosted across his ear. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't need me drunk to have your way with me."
Misha chuckled, low and dirty, bringing the finger not on Dean's wrist to trace Dean's ear. "Oh, really?"
Dean pressed closer to Misha, lightly pinning him against the wall with his body.
"Definitely," he breathed, pressing his lips lightly to Misha's.
Misha opened his mouth and kissed back, turning the light kiss into something dirty and pornographic, fingers digging into Dean's hips.
"God, you really are as easy as Jensen makes you look, huh?" Misha said in a low voice, eyes gleaming and lips slightly swollen.
Dean moaned into the kiss, arching his hips up into Misha's touch, breathing heavily as he broke the kiss. "Not- not that easy." he said, trying to be indignant.
Misha laughed, rich and low.
"You sure?" He asked, grinning, eyes slitted as he dragged his nails up Dean's shirt, slowly pulling it up.
He groaned, shivering as Misha made his way up his chest. "Fuck, just- maybe I'm just a little easy." he said as he bent to capture Misha's kiss-bruised lips again.
Misha chuckled lowly into Dean's mouth, nipping at his lower lip and sucking it in. A little? His eyes seemed to say, dark and gleaming mischievously.
Dean groaned, breaking the kiss for a moment. "So, maybe we should forget the beer and get out of here?" he asked. "I mean, I could just suck you off in the bathroom, but..."
Misha made a low sound, leaning his head against Dean's forehead.
"Oh, fuck, you dirty little whore."
Dean moaned, eyes dark with arousal at Misha's words. Misha pressed a biting kiss to Dean's lips and dragged him back to the car, pinning him to the side.
"Fuck, Misha, please!" he begged, grinding his hips against Misha, looking for friction.
Misha growled, licking a wet stripe from Dean's collarbone to his neck to the tip of his jaw. "Begging for me now, Dean? You dirty slut."
Dean leaned his head back, baring more of his neck for Misha as he groaned. "God, yes, Misha, please, fuck!" he pleaded, his hands coming up to tangle in Misha's hair.
Misha nipped at Dean's neck, growling softly. "Look at you," he said, voice throaty, "begging for it, pleading for it. I bet you'd just let me take you right here. Right. Now. In this public parking lot in front of a busy bar." He punctuated his words by rolling his hips savagely.
Dean moaned as Misha ground against him, whimpering. "Misha, yes, fuck, anywhere, just fuck me," he said, hardly conscious of what he said.
Misha laughed softly, sucking the skin behind Dean's ear. "You cocktease, coming in all confused and pretending to be Jen. But Jen is never like this, never so wanton and slutty. That's all Dean, isn't it?"
"God, yes, I-I'm a slut, your slut. Just fuck me, please," he gasped, groaning at the sensations thrumming through his body.
Misha hummed, moving from Dean's ear to his jaw, sucking a vibrant hickey on the line and moving his hands to grip Dean's hips.
"My slut, hmm? Well, what an offer," he murmured, taking a finger and sliding Dean's shirt up, tantalizingly.
"Why are you such a tease, Misha?" he asked breathily, twisting his fingers in Misha's hair and tugging.
The dark-haired man hummed, biting at Dean's jaw and sucking at the pulse point. "Are you really whore enough to let me fuck you right here, in front of everyone?" He asked instead of answering the question, and lowered his voice, getting right at Castiel-range.
Dean moans as Misha's voice drops into that deep, growling tone he hears so often from Castiel. "Yes, please, Misha! God, I'll do anything, just please fuck me." he asks, desperate.
Misha smirked, eyes gleaming darkly and started unzipping Dean's jeans, sliding them and his boxers down, pooling at the ankles. He gripped Dean's hips and placed him on top of the car, stepping in between Dean's spread legs.
"You're such a greedy little cockslut, begging for more," he hissed into Dean's panting mouth.
"Oh god, thank you, fuck, finally," he breathed, pulling Misha in for another kiss, sloppy and rough and desperate.
Misha allowed the kiss, sliding his hands under Dean's shirt and scratching his nails against his back. One hand followed the path of Dean's spine, teasing right at the crack and the other curved around Dean's erection. He grinned at Dean's whine. "Such a pretty little slut, aren't you, Dean?"
The hunter whimpered at the nails scratching down his spine, arching into Misha as he tried to thrust into his fist. "Please, Misha, just wanna come!" he panted, slipping into his Kansas drawl.
Misha leaned his lips to tease at Dean's ear, nipping on the tip. "Not until I say so, my little bitch," he growled, soft and dangerous.
"Please, Misha, please, God," Dean moaned, letting his head fall back as he widened his legs further.
"Look at that," Misha cooed, sliding a hand in his pocket to take out the lube. He coated his hand generously with it and slid a slick finger inside Dean's wet heat. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight. God, look at you, you little cockslut."
Dean keened as Misha's finger entered him, biting his lip at the delicious burn. "GodyesMishapleasemore," he breathed, grinding down.
Misha, grinning wickedly, crooked his finger a certain way, sliding in up to the knuckle before sliding out, thrusting inside of him. He was still dressed, and he pressed a palm to his groin to stop himself from coming.
"Begging for me now, Dean?" Misha tsked, "What would people say?"
He arched into Misha, biting into his shoulder to muffle his moans. God, he could only imagine how he looked, half-naked in the parking lot of some noisy bar, begging like the slut he was deep down. He shuddered at the thought, digging his fingers into Misha's scalp.
He gasped at Misha's words, still in that throaty growl. "I don't - fuck, Misha - don't care, god, just fuck me now, please," he replied, still thrusting down as much as he could on that finger inside him.
Misha slid a second finger in, scissoring and jabbing brutally, sucking a dark mark on Dean's neck.
"You beg so prettily," he purred, pulling back to brush his thumb on Dean's swollen lips, eying the arch of the defined cheekbones and sharp jaw line, long eyelashes thick and golden. Dean whimpered, his lips parting, tongue coming out to lick at Misha's finger, catching his eyes as he sucked it into his mouth.
"Fuck," Misha growled, eyes slitting, a third finger slipping inside. Dean's entrance was hungry, sucking in his fingers up to the knuckle and he groaned, biting a bruising kiss on Dean's jaw.
"Such a pretty whore," he breathed, thrusting his fingers into Dean's prostate.
Dean groaned, the slight pain from Misha's roughness the only thing keeping him from coming right then.
He moaned, tugging at Misha's hair as he tried to hold off his orgasm. "Please, Misha, so close, want you inside me, please," he begged.
Misha laughed, rich and deep. "God, are you that much of a slut that you could come with just my fingers in your ass?" He sucked a deep, vibrant mark to Dean's collarbone, rolling his hips against Dean's ass. "You're not gonna come until I say so, got it, Winchester?"
He whimpered, trying to keep his hips from rolling back onto those fingers. "Yes sir, Misha," he breathed.
Misha smiled, burying his nose into the hollow of Dean's neck, licking a long, wet strip from the collarbone to the tip of his jaw, tongue running over Dean's fluttering pulse. Dean shivered, baring more of his neck to Misha.
"Good boy," he purred, twisting his fingers even more.
He bit his lip as Misha twisted his fingers, panting. "Please, please, Misha, just... please?"
Misha hummed, lips finding Dean's, sliding a wet, tongue inside the warm heat of his mouth, exploring, claiming.
"Since you begged so nicely," he murmured against panting lips, removing his fingers. He used one hand, clever, slender fingers practiced and decisive, to unbutton and unzip his jeans, sliding them down until the evidence of his arousal sprang free, other hand sliding around Dean's hip and rolling Dean's balls between his fingers.
Turning Dean around, he pressed him against the car, his heat burning into Dean's naked skin. He bit at the spot where the shoulder meets the neck and slid in, inching in slowly.
Dean moaned low in his throat as Misha filled him, shuddering between the cold metal of the car and Misha's heat. "God, so good, fuck, thank you, Misha... sir," he breathed.
Softly, Misha chuckled, shifting his hips forward a bit, catching Dean's prostate. "I wouldn't thank me just yet, pretty boy."
Dean whined, rolling his hips back into Misha.. "Harder, please, sir," he panted, clenching hard around his cock.
"You do what I say, and when I say it. Isn't that what a good whore does, Dean?" He bit out, undulating his hips viciously, still not letting Dean move.
"Y-yes, I'm sorry, sir," he moaned, "I want to-to be a good whore for you. Please, fuck me, use me."
Misha nibbled at Dean's earlobe. "Atta boy," he breathed, hips snapping forward, eyes hooded.
Dean whimpered, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood. "God, yes, please, use me, fuck!" he panted, trying not to rock back into Misha's hips.
Laughing softly, Misha snapped his hips again, biting down hard on the back of Dean's neck. He pushed him closer to the car.
"If you're a good boy and you make me come, maybe I'll let you touch yourself until you can too, okay?" He whispered lowly, tone caressing Dean's skin like fine-woven silk.
Dean gasped as Misha bit him, the shock of pain mixing into the pleasure that was slowly overwhelming him.
"Yes, sir, thank you, whatever you want... whatever you think I deserve," he moaned.
"Whatever I want…" Misha purred, laving his tongue on the skin he'd just bitten. "You really shouldn't say those kinds of words to me, pretty boy."
He shivered, Misha's voice affecting him much, much more than it should. "I want you to fuck me, use me, anything. I want anything you want to give me. Fuck, Misha, I'm your slut, your bitch. Just please, anything you want."
Misha made a pleased, dark sound in the back of his throat, nosing along the trembling line of Dean's neck. "Well, would you look at that," he breathed hotly against his skin. "The cocksure Mr. Dean Winchester, completely at another man's mercy. Who would've thought of that?"
His tone is nonchalant, amused, but his fingers trail down Dean's body and his hips snap forward.
Dean shivered, hips jerking reflexively at Misha's tone. "God, yes," he breathed, his body arching slightly into Misha's touch.
Misha thrust into him, sinking his teeth onto his neck, sucking vibrant hickeys all along his jaw. He nibbled at Dean's earlobe. "You look so fucking pretty, all under my control."
"Yes, f-fuck, Misha, yours," he moaned, thrusting back onto Misha's cock. "Harder, please, sir," he begged, panting.
Misha hummed, the fingers on Dean's hips gripping tighter.
"Didn't I say you couldn't move, sweetheart?" He drawls, voice falling into an imitation of the patented Dean Winchester pet name.
Dean bit his lip, breath catching. "I-I'm sorry, Misha, just so fucking good, just want more," he gasped. "Please don't stop."
"God, do you have any idea what you look like right now? Such a good little whore, half-naked in the public parking lot in front of a bar, legs spread wide and moaning oh-so-pretty for the man fucking you." Misha growled and thrusted in deeper.
Dean keened, throwing his head back, leaning against Misha. "Please, please, sir, can I come?" he asked, his face reddening further with shame and arousal.
Misha ignored the question, stroking Dean's cock with one clever hand and leaning forward, eyes intent on the flush of Dean's cheeks.
"Look at you. You get off on humiliation. Shit, you really are the perfect whore," he purred.
Dean whimpered, flushing even darker as he tried not to thrust up into Misha's hand. "Please, let me come, please, sir." he begged, craning his neck to meet Misha's eyes, looking up at him through his lashes.
"Fuck," Misha breathed, his own eyes wide, pupils blown so that there was the barest blue in the midst of all the black.
He thrusted up once more, harsh and jerking, and came, panting against Dean's back as he stroked Dean's hipbones, still not letting him come. He watched, darkly amused, as Dean attempted to hold himself still even when he desperately wanted to clench, to just let go.
But not yet. Not until Misha said so.
Dean shuddered as he felt Misha come inside of him. "Sir, please, may I come? Y-you said if I- if I made you come, you'd let me... please, can I? Just want it so, so bad," he moaned, far past caring if he sounded like a whore.
"What was that, Dean?" Misha's breath tickled at Dean's earlobe, as he nibbled it gently.
"I couldn't seem to hear you. You wanted something?" His tone was low, dangerous.
Dean whimpered. "Please, sir, please let me come. I've done- I'll do anything, whatever you ask, just please?" he said, half-begging, half-whining.
Misha slid out and pressed two slick fingers into Dean's ass, twisting at the oversensitive prostate before removing them, holding them to Dean's mouth. Dean bit his lip, muffling the near-scream as Misha's fingers found his prostate, sensations on the border of pain and pleasure exploding at the base of his spine.
"You sure you're not hungry? You've been such a hardworking little whore, surely you want some nutrition." Misha says, cocking his head to the side and twisting them around so that Dean's ass is against the car, chest to chest.
Dean let Misha turn him around, and opened his mouth obediently, sucking and licking at his fingers.
"Thank you, sir," he said, licking a drop of come off his bottom lip. They were chest to chest, breathing the same air and Misha pressed his mouth to Dean's, tongue tangling hot and filthy against his.
He pulled back, licking that neck he was so fond of, a stripe from his collarbone to the tip of his jaw. He moved his mouth to Dean's ear, nipping and sucking the earlobe, dragging on the torture. "You can come now, Dean. Let go for me, come."
At Misha's command, Dean tensed, moaning as he came, come streaking both of their stomachs. He leaned into Misha, kissing him lazily. "Thank you for letting me come, sir," he whispered against Misha's lips.
Misha stroked Dean's neck. "You've been a good boy," he purred, exchanging lazy kisses against the car.
Author: xxpinkwritesx and MissStud
Pairing: Dean/Misha (And Dean/Misha/Sam later)
Word Count: 3,644 (this chapter)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dean's stuck in Meta!Verse with Misha Collins. He has no idea what he's in for.
A/N: May be a bit screwed up in some places (lines out of order a bit) as this was originally a roleplay over tumblr.
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Dean looked around the set, fidgeting as he waited for Sam to come back from the not-Ruby's house. He glanced up and saw the…actor, he guessed, who played Castiel. What was his name again. Something with an M.
Misha, maybe?
"God, what the hell's a Misha?" He muttered, rubbing his fingers on his temple.
"You fucker, you're just messing with me, aren't you?"
Dean's head shot up and he turned, eyes wide. "Uh…you're not-Yes, yes, I am."
Misha rolled his eyes, "Funny, Jen." He lowered his voice down to Castiel-level tone. "You should show me some respect," he said, grinning toothily.
Dean look away, coughing, and blushed, tip of his ears turning red. "Yes, sir, Misha!" he said, winking to hide the flush.
Misha cocked his head, squinting at him. "You're acting kind of weird, Jensen. Late night?" He winked, waiting for an answer.
Dean flushed again and licked his lips. "I, uh, yeah, I guess. I- I mean, not like that, but, um..." He looked away, avoiding Misha's gaze.
Misha raised an eyebrow. "Riiiight, you and Jared, hmm?" He smirked.
Dean snapped his head up, mouth opening and closing before looking at him. "What-I-no! We're not together!"
Misha scoffed, "Of course you aren't sweetie, I totally understand discretion." He grinned widely, nose wrinkling.
Dean sighed. "Jesus, does everyone in every goddamn universe think S- Jared and I are a thing?" he asked, shaking his head.
Misha winked. "Just basically the entire fandom. Except the ones that think we're fucking." Misha leered.
"Fandom- I - what. Why do people think of these things?" Dean choked out, face reddening.
Misha shot him a look. "Jensen…you know better than I that once the fandom gets it into their heads about something, they never quit. What's up with you?"
Dean swallowed. This "acting like whoever-the-hell Ackles" thing might be harder than he thought.
"I, uh... it was a really late night and... damn, I could use a beer. Do you want to...?" He trailed off, not quite sure what he was asking.
Misha cocked his head - eerily Castiel-like - and his eyes crinkled at the edges.
"You sure you don't want to go with Jared?" He grinned again, nose wrinkling.
"Nah, I'm good. I mean, I wouldn't want to look like a pimp, going out with both of my 'boyfriends.'" He says laughingly, feeling for the first time that yeah, he might be okay in this screwy universe.
Misha smirked, blue eyes flashing. "No, wouldn't want that," he murmured, voice a little softer.
Dean smiled as Cas - no, Misha's voice softened.
"So, uh, you want to drive together, or should I...?" he asked, letting the question hang. He still had no idea where anything in this universe was. Hell, he didn't know where anything in Canada was anyway, Twilight Zone or not.
Misha grinned. "Yeah, I got it." He grabbed a pair of keys and opened an Audi, slipping inside and peering at Dean.
"You coming?" He smirked, winking.
"Not yet," He said, grinning as he slid into the passenger's seat.
Misha grinned, all white teeth, gums, and crinkly nose, and pulled out, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in a rhythmic, repetitive beat.
"You sure you're up for a night out with me again, Jen? Last time you didn't fare so well." Misha shot him a smirk, eyes gleaming.
Dean laughed nervously. "'Course, man. I, uh, hardly remember last time." He said, thoughts beginning to race. Shit, of course they'd hung out before. They worked together. He gazed out the window, hoping this Jensen guy hadn't done anything too stupid around Misha before.
Misha pulled into a noisy bar and sat in the parking lot, looking at him, blue eyes piercing and knowing-very Castiel-like in their intensity.
"You're not Jensen, are you?"
Dean froze, trapped in that intense blue gaze. He thought of a thousand things he could say- he could laugh it off, tell this man he's insane; he could claim he was going through a personal crisis or something.
"Hi. I'm Dean Winchester, and I really need a goddamn beer right now."
Or he could do that.
Misha laughed, low and throaty, and got out of the car.
"Well then, Mr. Dean Winchester, let's get you a beer." His eyes were twinkling and they were dark with something unnamed and intense.
Dean got out of the car, his body running on autopilot. "I- wait. What? You just... does this happen OFTEN around here or something?" he asked, following Misha into the bar.
Misha made a careless gesture.
"Nah. But I think you'll find I'm a little more…open that most," he said, flashing Dean a wicked grin. "I'm not exactly like your precious Cas." He threw Dean a lewd wink.
Well, that went better than expected, Dean thought, still somewhat dumbfounded by Misha's response. "...And by open, you mean you would believe a co-worker went Twilight Zone with the guy he plays on a TV show or whatever this is?" He had to admit it - At this point, most normal people would be freaking out, not... flirting with him or whatever this was. "I expected a few questions, at least."
Misha shrugged. "Well, it's Supernatural. I would assume that can happen in the Supernatural world." He turned to look at him, leaning against the wall of the bar, eyelashes thick and dark.
"The only question I have is are we gonna get this fucking beer, or not?" His voice dropped down an octave, nearly at Castiel-level.
Dean's eyes widened as Misha spoke in that deep, gorgeous voice he only ever heard from Castiel. It sounded so familiar, but at the same time so different, coming from this guy... and no matter who it came from, it was still hot as hell.
"Um." was the only response he could think of at that moment.
Misha's mouth curled at a corner, eyes flashing with heat.
"So you do have a thing for that, huh?" He asked softly, stretching lazily, cat-like, a sliver of skin exposed in between his pants and shirt.
Dean stared as Misha's shirt rode up, unconsciously stepping closer. "I-fuck, yes." he admitted, voice rough.
Misha saw Dean's stare and smirked, arm reaching out to wrap around his wrist, pulling him into that precious Personal Space zone.
"Come on, cowboy, you want that beer or what?" He asked, voice still low and throaty.
Dean shivered as that voice washed over him, hardly hearing the meaning behind the words. "Uh. Yeah, beer... drunk could be a good idea right now." He replied absently, focusing more on the warm hand on his wrist than anything around him.
Misha smirked, dragging a thumb across the fluttering pulse on the underside of Dean's wrist.
"Yeah?" He breathed, right in Dean's ear. "I don't know, you drunk…I might not be able to keep myself from having my way with you."
Dean bit back a moan as Misha's breath ghosted across his ear. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't need me drunk to have your way with me."
Misha chuckled, low and dirty, bringing the finger not on Dean's wrist to trace Dean's ear. "Oh, really?"
Dean pressed closer to Misha, lightly pinning him against the wall with his body.
"Definitely," he breathed, pressing his lips lightly to Misha's.
Misha opened his mouth and kissed back, turning the light kiss into something dirty and pornographic, fingers digging into Dean's hips.
"God, you really are as easy as Jensen makes you look, huh?" Misha said in a low voice, eyes gleaming and lips slightly swollen.
Dean moaned into the kiss, arching his hips up into Misha's touch, breathing heavily as he broke the kiss. "Not- not that easy." he said, trying to be indignant.
Misha laughed, rich and low.
"You sure?" He asked, grinning, eyes slitted as he dragged his nails up Dean's shirt, slowly pulling it up.
He groaned, shivering as Misha made his way up his chest. "Fuck, just- maybe I'm just a little easy." he said as he bent to capture Misha's kiss-bruised lips again.
Misha chuckled lowly into Dean's mouth, nipping at his lower lip and sucking it in. A little? His eyes seemed to say, dark and gleaming mischievously.
Dean groaned, breaking the kiss for a moment. "So, maybe we should forget the beer and get out of here?" he asked. "I mean, I could just suck you off in the bathroom, but..."
Misha made a low sound, leaning his head against Dean's forehead.
"Oh, fuck, you dirty little whore."
Dean moaned, eyes dark with arousal at Misha's words. Misha pressed a biting kiss to Dean's lips and dragged him back to the car, pinning him to the side.
"Fuck, Misha, please!" he begged, grinding his hips against Misha, looking for friction.
Misha growled, licking a wet stripe from Dean's collarbone to his neck to the tip of his jaw. "Begging for me now, Dean? You dirty slut."
Dean leaned his head back, baring more of his neck for Misha as he groaned. "God, yes, Misha, please, fuck!" he pleaded, his hands coming up to tangle in Misha's hair.
Misha nipped at Dean's neck, growling softly. "Look at you," he said, voice throaty, "begging for it, pleading for it. I bet you'd just let me take you right here. Right. Now. In this public parking lot in front of a busy bar." He punctuated his words by rolling his hips savagely.
Dean moaned as Misha ground against him, whimpering. "Misha, yes, fuck, anywhere, just fuck me," he said, hardly conscious of what he said.
Misha laughed softly, sucking the skin behind Dean's ear. "You cocktease, coming in all confused and pretending to be Jen. But Jen is never like this, never so wanton and slutty. That's all Dean, isn't it?"
"God, yes, I-I'm a slut, your slut. Just fuck me, please," he gasped, groaning at the sensations thrumming through his body.
Misha hummed, moving from Dean's ear to his jaw, sucking a vibrant hickey on the line and moving his hands to grip Dean's hips.
"My slut, hmm? Well, what an offer," he murmured, taking a finger and sliding Dean's shirt up, tantalizingly.
"Why are you such a tease, Misha?" he asked breathily, twisting his fingers in Misha's hair and tugging.
The dark-haired man hummed, biting at Dean's jaw and sucking at the pulse point. "Are you really whore enough to let me fuck you right here, in front of everyone?" He asked instead of answering the question, and lowered his voice, getting right at Castiel-range.
Dean moans as Misha's voice drops into that deep, growling tone he hears so often from Castiel. "Yes, please, Misha! God, I'll do anything, just please fuck me." he asks, desperate.
Misha smirked, eyes gleaming darkly and started unzipping Dean's jeans, sliding them and his boxers down, pooling at the ankles. He gripped Dean's hips and placed him on top of the car, stepping in between Dean's spread legs.
"You're such a greedy little cockslut, begging for more," he hissed into Dean's panting mouth.
"Oh god, thank you, fuck, finally," he breathed, pulling Misha in for another kiss, sloppy and rough and desperate.
Misha allowed the kiss, sliding his hands under Dean's shirt and scratching his nails against his back. One hand followed the path of Dean's spine, teasing right at the crack and the other curved around Dean's erection. He grinned at Dean's whine. "Such a pretty little slut, aren't you, Dean?"
The hunter whimpered at the nails scratching down his spine, arching into Misha as he tried to thrust into his fist. "Please, Misha, just wanna come!" he panted, slipping into his Kansas drawl.
Misha leaned his lips to tease at Dean's ear, nipping on the tip. "Not until I say so, my little bitch," he growled, soft and dangerous.
"Please, Misha, please, God," Dean moaned, letting his head fall back as he widened his legs further.
"Look at that," Misha cooed, sliding a hand in his pocket to take out the lube. He coated his hand generously with it and slid a slick finger inside Dean's wet heat. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight. God, look at you, you little cockslut."
Dean keened as Misha's finger entered him, biting his lip at the delicious burn. "GodyesMishapleasemore," he breathed, grinding down.
Misha, grinning wickedly, crooked his finger a certain way, sliding in up to the knuckle before sliding out, thrusting inside of him. He was still dressed, and he pressed a palm to his groin to stop himself from coming.
"Begging for me now, Dean?" Misha tsked, "What would people say?"
He arched into Misha, biting into his shoulder to muffle his moans. God, he could only imagine how he looked, half-naked in the parking lot of some noisy bar, begging like the slut he was deep down. He shuddered at the thought, digging his fingers into Misha's scalp.
He gasped at Misha's words, still in that throaty growl. "I don't - fuck, Misha - don't care, god, just fuck me now, please," he replied, still thrusting down as much as he could on that finger inside him.
Misha slid a second finger in, scissoring and jabbing brutally, sucking a dark mark on Dean's neck.
"You beg so prettily," he purred, pulling back to brush his thumb on Dean's swollen lips, eying the arch of the defined cheekbones and sharp jaw line, long eyelashes thick and golden. Dean whimpered, his lips parting, tongue coming out to lick at Misha's finger, catching his eyes as he sucked it into his mouth.
"Fuck," Misha growled, eyes slitting, a third finger slipping inside. Dean's entrance was hungry, sucking in his fingers up to the knuckle and he groaned, biting a bruising kiss on Dean's jaw.
"Such a pretty whore," he breathed, thrusting his fingers into Dean's prostate.
Dean groaned, the slight pain from Misha's roughness the only thing keeping him from coming right then.
He moaned, tugging at Misha's hair as he tried to hold off his orgasm. "Please, Misha, so close, want you inside me, please," he begged.
Misha laughed, rich and deep. "God, are you that much of a slut that you could come with just my fingers in your ass?" He sucked a deep, vibrant mark to Dean's collarbone, rolling his hips against Dean's ass. "You're not gonna come until I say so, got it, Winchester?"
He whimpered, trying to keep his hips from rolling back onto those fingers. "Yes sir, Misha," he breathed.
Misha smiled, burying his nose into the hollow of Dean's neck, licking a long, wet strip from the collarbone to the tip of his jaw, tongue running over Dean's fluttering pulse. Dean shivered, baring more of his neck to Misha.
"Good boy," he purred, twisting his fingers even more.
He bit his lip as Misha twisted his fingers, panting. "Please, please, Misha, just... please?"
Misha hummed, lips finding Dean's, sliding a wet, tongue inside the warm heat of his mouth, exploring, claiming.
"Since you begged so nicely," he murmured against panting lips, removing his fingers. He used one hand, clever, slender fingers practiced and decisive, to unbutton and unzip his jeans, sliding them down until the evidence of his arousal sprang free, other hand sliding around Dean's hip and rolling Dean's balls between his fingers.
Turning Dean around, he pressed him against the car, his heat burning into Dean's naked skin. He bit at the spot where the shoulder meets the neck and slid in, inching in slowly.
Dean moaned low in his throat as Misha filled him, shuddering between the cold metal of the car and Misha's heat. "God, so good, fuck, thank you, Misha... sir," he breathed.
Softly, Misha chuckled, shifting his hips forward a bit, catching Dean's prostate. "I wouldn't thank me just yet, pretty boy."
Dean whined, rolling his hips back into Misha.. "Harder, please, sir," he panted, clenching hard around his cock.
"You do what I say, and when I say it. Isn't that what a good whore does, Dean?" He bit out, undulating his hips viciously, still not letting Dean move.
"Y-yes, I'm sorry, sir," he moaned, "I want to-to be a good whore for you. Please, fuck me, use me."
Misha nibbled at Dean's earlobe. "Atta boy," he breathed, hips snapping forward, eyes hooded.
Dean whimpered, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood. "God, yes, please, use me, fuck!" he panted, trying not to rock back into Misha's hips.
Laughing softly, Misha snapped his hips again, biting down hard on the back of Dean's neck. He pushed him closer to the car.
"If you're a good boy and you make me come, maybe I'll let you touch yourself until you can too, okay?" He whispered lowly, tone caressing Dean's skin like fine-woven silk.
Dean gasped as Misha bit him, the shock of pain mixing into the pleasure that was slowly overwhelming him.
"Yes, sir, thank you, whatever you want... whatever you think I deserve," he moaned.
"Whatever I want…" Misha purred, laving his tongue on the skin he'd just bitten. "You really shouldn't say those kinds of words to me, pretty boy."
He shivered, Misha's voice affecting him much, much more than it should. "I want you to fuck me, use me, anything. I want anything you want to give me. Fuck, Misha, I'm your slut, your bitch. Just please, anything you want."
Misha made a pleased, dark sound in the back of his throat, nosing along the trembling line of Dean's neck. "Well, would you look at that," he breathed hotly against his skin. "The cocksure Mr. Dean Winchester, completely at another man's mercy. Who would've thought of that?"
His tone is nonchalant, amused, but his fingers trail down Dean's body and his hips snap forward.
Dean shivered, hips jerking reflexively at Misha's tone. "God, yes," he breathed, his body arching slightly into Misha's touch.
Misha thrust into him, sinking his teeth onto his neck, sucking vibrant hickeys all along his jaw. He nibbled at Dean's earlobe. "You look so fucking pretty, all under my control."
"Yes, f-fuck, Misha, yours," he moaned, thrusting back onto Misha's cock. "Harder, please, sir," he begged, panting.
Misha hummed, the fingers on Dean's hips gripping tighter.
"Didn't I say you couldn't move, sweetheart?" He drawls, voice falling into an imitation of the patented Dean Winchester pet name.
Dean bit his lip, breath catching. "I-I'm sorry, Misha, just so fucking good, just want more," he gasped. "Please don't stop."
"God, do you have any idea what you look like right now? Such a good little whore, half-naked in the public parking lot in front of a bar, legs spread wide and moaning oh-so-pretty for the man fucking you." Misha growled and thrusted in deeper.
Dean keened, throwing his head back, leaning against Misha. "Please, please, sir, can I come?" he asked, his face reddening further with shame and arousal.
Misha ignored the question, stroking Dean's cock with one clever hand and leaning forward, eyes intent on the flush of Dean's cheeks.
"Look at you. You get off on humiliation. Shit, you really are the perfect whore," he purred.
Dean whimpered, flushing even darker as he tried not to thrust up into Misha's hand. "Please, let me come, please, sir." he begged, craning his neck to meet Misha's eyes, looking up at him through his lashes.
"Fuck," Misha breathed, his own eyes wide, pupils blown so that there was the barest blue in the midst of all the black.
He thrusted up once more, harsh and jerking, and came, panting against Dean's back as he stroked Dean's hipbones, still not letting him come. He watched, darkly amused, as Dean attempted to hold himself still even when he desperately wanted to clench, to just let go.
But not yet. Not until Misha said so.
Dean shuddered as he felt Misha come inside of him. "Sir, please, may I come? Y-you said if I- if I made you come, you'd let me... please, can I? Just want it so, so bad," he moaned, far past caring if he sounded like a whore.
"What was that, Dean?" Misha's breath tickled at Dean's earlobe, as he nibbled it gently.
"I couldn't seem to hear you. You wanted something?" His tone was low, dangerous.
Dean whimpered. "Please, sir, please let me come. I've done- I'll do anything, whatever you ask, just please?" he said, half-begging, half-whining.
Misha slid out and pressed two slick fingers into Dean's ass, twisting at the oversensitive prostate before removing them, holding them to Dean's mouth. Dean bit his lip, muffling the near-scream as Misha's fingers found his prostate, sensations on the border of pain and pleasure exploding at the base of his spine.
"You sure you're not hungry? You've been such a hardworking little whore, surely you want some nutrition." Misha says, cocking his head to the side and twisting them around so that Dean's ass is against the car, chest to chest.
Dean let Misha turn him around, and opened his mouth obediently, sucking and licking at his fingers.
"Thank you, sir," he said, licking a drop of come off his bottom lip. They were chest to chest, breathing the same air and Misha pressed his mouth to Dean's, tongue tangling hot and filthy against his.
He pulled back, licking that neck he was so fond of, a stripe from his collarbone to the tip of his jaw. He moved his mouth to Dean's ear, nipping and sucking the earlobe, dragging on the torture. "You can come now, Dean. Let go for me, come."
At Misha's command, Dean tensed, moaning as he came, come streaking both of their stomachs. He leaned into Misha, kissing him lazily. "Thank you for letting me come, sir," he whispered against Misha's lips.
Misha stroked Dean's neck. "You've been a good boy," he purred, exchanging lazy kisses against the car.